


Madness is the Emergency Exit

by Theboys



Series: Dear God, It's Me, Dean [29]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alpha Sam, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alpha/Omega, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angry Sam, Bottom Dean, Canon-Typical Violence, Demon Deals, M/M, Omega Dean, Possessive Behavior, Possessive Sam, Protective Sam, Scared Sam, Top Sam
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-06
Updated: 2015-08-06
Packaged: 2018-04-13 05:27:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,195
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4509597
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Theboys/pseuds/Theboys
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There’s no one here to reign them in together if they overpower one another. That’s Dean’s job, and he’s absentee.</p><p>In which Sam discovers what has occurred, and he and his Alpha are handling it about as well as you would expect.</p><p>Sam POV.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Madness is the Emergency Exit

**Author's Note:**

> Title derived from the Joker monologue within the graphic novel, The Killing Joke, by Alan Moore.

There’s a dent in the front grill of the Impala.

Sam knows this because he put it there himself. Slammed the front of the car directly against the fence in Bobby’s front yard, engine still running

every door wide open.

Sam can’t pinpoint what went wrong, but he knows it did. Knows he felt anguish and fear from three separate points, and then Dean was gone.

The connection is still there, framed in Sam’s mind, and Sam hasn’t lost control of himself and his wolf yet, so he knows Dean is alive.

But it’s muted. Feels like it is submerged in water. Bastardized caricature of what it used to be.

The kitchen is a disaster. There are shattered plates on the floor covered with a confetti of glass, and Sam can scent that two Alphas were here.

He turns further into the room and finds the body of one of them, tangled grotesquely, giant spider kill. Dean’s Bowie is sticking out of his neck, almost completely slathered in his own blood. Sam is calm enough for a second to appreciate the fact that Dean took one down all on his own.

He smiles, and it’s the monster of what his joy should look like. Clean cut, deep in the throat, and Sam guesses that Dean threw it. His brother wouldn’t risk getting so close to the opponent with his pups. Sam’s head throbs abruptly, and he reaches down and snags the knife in his hand, congealed blood collecting on his fingertips.

He can only imagine how angry Dean was, fucking tornado of fury, parental instincts and hunters rage, imaginary monster.

He drops down to his knees, lets the knife clatter to the floor beside them. He’s gasping for air, can’t quite get enough into his lungs, and where the hell is Alpha? He should be here, bolstering Sam up with all the rage that he knows is there, hummingbird in his blood.

He can feel the wolf, deadly presence, but he’s silent, immovable, hasn’t so much as growled since Sam felt the agony ripple across the claim, send him spiraling into whatever circle of hell this is.

This is Dean.

This is the reason before any decision he makes. He’s not sure when he began to define himself in terms of his brother, but this is where they’re at.

And they’ve got his children.

Alpha shudders once, just once at that thought and it’s enough to make Sam chuckle darkly. Beast is keeping himself together, no aid from Sam required. There’s no one here to reign them in together if they overpower one another. That’s Dean’s job, and he’s absentee.

Sam’s bemused. Wants to say a Hail Mary for all of the lives he’s going to let Alpha take when he finds Dean. All the lives he’s gonna help Alpha destroy. He’s going to bathe the world in flames, and there’ll be no phantom ache of regret, severed limb to remind him of the past he once had.

He stands, familiarizing himself with the distant pulse of controlled Alpha and clear-headed Sam, two-headed monster, unnatural in grace and destruction.

He steps around the murdered Alpha, turns into the living room, can still smell the warm scent of a sleeping Dean and co., all intertwined like tree branches, belonging to him. Face twists briefly as he glances at the food and water he left for his brother, the IV stand hanging empty, fluid dripping listlessly on the hardwood floor.

Sam can feel his temper burning at this, eyes glazing as he looks at his brother’s life support, the machine keeping his family intact, and he’s breathing heavily, has no idea what to do if he shifts entirely, if he’ll be able to maintain personal control long enough to return to sanity, to think of how to save his brother.

He’s alerted to another presence in the room, turns around sharply to see Crowley picking his way through the wreckage, facial expression impenetrable.

“I was sorry to hear about your brother.”

It’s smarmy, the way it’s said, and Sam wants to clobber the demon with everything in him, but he also doesn’t have a lot to offer, and he needs him. Needs him to find Dean.

“If they have Dean, all deals are off. I’ll kill you, your army, and Lilith, if anything happens to him.” Crowley smiles, condescending and dark, waves a flippant hand in the air. “We’ll find out who took him, no need for dramatics.”

Sam surges forward, grabs Crowley by his lapel and slams him into the wall, picture frame coming loose and sliding to the floor beside his dangling body.

“I’m fighting a war for you. A war, you clearly can’t handle on your own.” He shakes the demon severely, and Alpha, though not fully aware, growls once, sharply, in appreciation. “I’ll give you a bloodbath. I’ll even slaughter demons in your name.”

He presses himself closer to Crowley, demons eyes widening infinitesimally, fists choke-tight by his sides, tangled in his coat.

“But if he’s dead, if he and my goddamn children are dead, Crowley?”

Sam is shaking, vibrating with fury the likes of which he’s never seen before, never housed without Alpha bearing the brunt of it.

“There won’t be any Hell but me.”

Sam lets the man slide to the floor, dress shoes clicking with finality on the wood.

Crowley steps away from him with a sniff, adjusts his suit and glances up at Sam with a greater measure of respect, and more than a hint of unadulterated fear.

“No need to go around throwing your weight, Sam. We’ve got it. You’re a big Alpha.” Sam snorts despite himself, because normally he would’ve laughed. He makes himself as imposing and volatile as possible when he’s furious, otherwise he tries to blend in with his surroundings.

He wants them to see him coming, force of nature, come to consume.

Crowley makes his way out of the front door then, shaking imaginary dirt from his clothes. Sam grabs him by the shoulder, suddenly, whirls him around. “How the hell did you get in here? Bobby’s got every sigil and trap known to man in that place.”

Crowley grins, first real smile he’s seen from the man, and Sam is unamused. “You’ve got your secrets, Sam, and I’ve got mine.” He inclines his head towards the sleek black car waiting beside the Impala, engine groaning under all the time that it’s been on, heat mingling with the cold of the air.

Sam rushes to Dean’s car, turns everything off and closes the door, looks apologetically at the injury the car has sustained. Almost looks forward to Dean bitching him out about it. He’d let Dean kill him over it if that meant he could see him.

He pockets the keys and gestures towards Crowley. “You first.” Crowley rolls his eyes but obliges, slinking into the backseat and Sam curls his body over double in order to follow suit. He sprawls out loosely, rolling his neck and digging long fingers into sore knees.

Crowley keeps to his side, motions at the driver to start the car, and steeples his fingers under his chin, slides Sam an appraising look.

“You’re holding up better than I expected.” Point blank, this demon. Not one to mince words, then.

Sam shrugs, but it’s tight, he’s holding the pieces of himself together, and not necessarily in order.

“He’s not dead. He was dead, I’d already know. You’d already be body parts on the floor of my house.” He says it nonchalantly, as sure of this as he is the proper incantation for an exorcism, undeniable truth. Crowley sits forward, first bit of flame stinging at his eyes.

“I’m aware. I know you’d rip me into tiny little bits and feed me to the dogs, but the question is, how are you going to get him back?”

Sam postures at the demon, swinging his hands together in one large fist, holding it between his spread legs. “That’s what you’re here for. You need me more than I need you.” He clenches his fingers together tighter. “I could find him. It might take me longer, but I’d do it. S’how we always do it.” He jerks his head toward Crowley, and the demon sits back, eyebrow raised.

“But see, you, you don’t have an army. You don’t have shit. You’re just her bitch-boy, all snark but no real bite. _I’m_ your fucking bite, Crowley. I’m the reason they’ve got Dean.”

Sam leans back himself, loosens his hands and sprawls them dangerously beside him, poised innocence. “But you’re the reason they’re gonna give him back.” Crowley waves his hand in the air. “How on earth, do you propose we do this? I’m all ears.” Sam’s a little tired of the lack of faith, as if Sam hasn’t proven himself enough already, proven his level of deprivation when it comes to Dean.

“I don’t need a plan to kill everyone, Crowley. I just need you to give me space, and someone who can fucking fight with me.” Sam pauses. “And don’t get yourself caught in the crossfire. Cause when my Alpha is out, he’ll murder anything breathing.”

Crowley nods, spine stiff, and Sam gets the impression that people don’t generally address him like this. He feels the car stutter to a stop and looks around, he hasn’t been paying attention to the ride, and that angers him, second place only to Dean’s abduction. Crowley’s door pops open and a there’s a flash of blonde and then he can smell Ruby’s distinct scent, soft omega host buried under Ruby smell of gutter trash.

He flinches. She grins at him, guarded, she’s been on the receiving end of his rage too many times to underestimate him anymore. “This’ll be fun, Sam. You’re gonna tear everyone apart.” She smiles sardonically, twisted humor, and tucks her hair behind an ear, pulling out the knife she’s got secured in her boot. She twirls the thing on one finger, balancing act, and winks in his direction.

“Lilith’s made a real bad choice, Crowls.” Crowley grimaces, as if he hates the name almost as much as Ruby loves saying it. “No, you don’t understand. Sam is a fucking monster. It’s gonna rain blood in there.” Ruby’s face brightens and she smiles warmly at Sam.

“Don’t fucking break my arm doing this. I’m helping you out, here. This’ll set an example.”

Crowley sighs, pushing Ruby down so she sits flat on her ass in the seat, and he ignores her completely, wild grin on her pretty face.

Crowley gestures toward Sam, face mildly irritated, and Ruby nods, mask back in place. “I’m gonna track Dean. Lilith’s got her army doing this, so they’re not gonna think to cloak him. They’re probably not planning to keep him alive for very long, anyway.”

Ruby hurls her body backwards just as Sam lurches forward, and Crowley slides two hands between them, face ablaze.

“Hey! You bloody fucking fools, sit down and do something, killing each other isn’t going to make the situation any easier!” Sam’s chest is heaving, and Alpha’s teeth are visible, but he’s still just as taut and motionless as he’s been ever since he felt the frisson of danger shoot through the claim.

Sam doesn’t have time to worry about what that means, worry about how he’s supposed to survive whatever Alpha provides, but he narrows his eyes at Ruby just the same and motions to her.

“Do it, then. I’m all out of patience.”

Sam hates depending on these two, beings that he’s spent his life fighting, but he knows that he and Bobby could’ve met up, found a trusted witch and probably asked her to track his brother, but there’s at least three days gone, there. He’s loathe to admit that he would rather do this, consequences be damned.

Ruby tugs a map from out of the backpack she’s carrying, spreads it on the space between her and Crowley, and pulls her hair back, holding it in a loose fist as she leans close to the paper, murmuring under her breath. Sam can hear the Latin, but it’s too low and she’s speaking too quickly for him to understand, but all of a sudden the map bursts into flames, white hot conflagration.

Sam’s leaning closer, rather than away, instinct to investigate too great to ignore. The fire peters out as quickly as it began and Ruby picks up the charred piece that remains, sliding it over carefully with two fingers. “He’s there. That’s where they’re keeping him.”

Sam lets the edge of the map flutter in his palm, suddenly bone-weary, body hibernating in preparation for what he’s about to undertake.

He’s in Hardin, Montana.

They haven’t taken him very far.

Sam crushes his fist over the evidence, weak chuckle pulled forth from the idea that maybe Dean put up too much of a struggle for them to take him where they wanted.

Knowing his brother, that’s probably the extent of what happened.

He directs his question to no one in particular, musing out loud, something which is very notably unlike him.

“What do the police look like in Hardin?”

**Author's Note:**

> send comments in my general direction, y'all.


End file.
